NIRl'ANA 
DATS 

il.l-',  TOUNG  RICE 


NIRVANA    DAYS 


N  I  RVAN  A    DAYS 


BY 


CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

AUTHOR    OF 

CHARLES    DI   TOCCA,    A   NIGHT   IN   AVIGNON, 
YOLANDA   OF   CYPRUS,    DAVID,    ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
MCMIX 


Copyright,   JQOQ,   by  Cale   Young  Rice 


TO 

JAMES    LANE    ALLEN 

WITH    FRIENDSHIP  AND 

FAITHFUL  ESTEEM 


FOREWORD 

A  few  of  the  poems  of  this  volume 
are  retained  from  two  of  the  author's 
earlier  volumes  which  are  now  out  of 
print.  The  rest  are  new. 


CONTENTS 

NON-DRAMATIC:  PAGE 

INVOCATION    .       .       .       .       .  -V  .       .       .       .  3 

THE  FAIRIES  OF  GOD         ......  4 

A  SONG  OF  THE  OLD  VENETIANS     ....  6 

NIRVANA  DAYS     .       .....       .       .       .  8 

THE  YOUNG  TO  THE  OLD  ....       .       .  21 

OFF  THE  IRISH  COAST 23 

A  VISION  OF  VENUS  AND  ADONIS    .       .       .       .  24 

SOMNAMBULISM      .       .            • ..    •  .       .       .       .  26 

SERENATA  MAGICA       .       .       .       .       .       .       .  28 

O-SHICHI  AND  MOTO  .......  31 

As  OF  OLD    .       .-•     .- 40 

A  PRAYER 42 

THE  SONG  OF  A  NATURE  WORSHIPER    ...  43 

THE  INFINITE'S  QUEST 45 

LAD  AND  LASS     ........  46 

THE  STRONG  MAN  TO  His  SIRES    ....  48 

AT  STRATFORD      ........  53 

THE  IMAGE  PAINTER  .......  54 

WANDA 56 

IN  A  STORM  .  60 


x  CONTENTS 

NON-DRAMATIC— Continued:  PAGE 

ANTAGONISTS  .                     61 

SEEDS 63 

WORLD-SORROW 64 

THE  SOUL'S  RETURN  .......  67 

BIRTHRIGHT   .........  69 

ROMANCE       .       . 71 

ON  THE  ATLANTIC       .......  73 

BY  A  SILENT  STREAM 74 

THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  OF  KAMAKURA  TO  THE  SPHINX  76 

NECROMANCE 78 

LOOK  NOT  TO  THE  WEST 79 

A  NIKKO  SHRINE Si 

THE  QUESTION 83 

I'LL  LOOK  No  MORE         ......  85 

NIGHT'S  OCCULTISM                                  -.       .       .  86 

MORE   OR  LESS   DRAMATIC: 

UNCROWNED  ......       ...  87 

WRITTEN  IN  HELL 88 

AT  THE  HELM 93 

DEAD  LOVE 94 

MORTAL  SIN 96 

SEA-MAD 97 

THE  DEATH-SPRITE 99 

WORMWOOD 103 

QUEST  AND  REQUITAL  (A  Quatorzain  Sequence)       .  105 

LOVE  IN  EXTREMIS      ....  112 


CONTENTS  xi 

MORE  OR  LESS   DRAMATIC— Continued:  PAGE 

OVER  THE  DREGS IT4 

BEWITCHED Il6 

QUARREL       .             Il8 

OF  THE  FLESH                           •     ^  I2° 

A  DEATH  SONG I23 

ON  BALLYTEIGUE  BAY I25 

NIGHT-RIDERS I29 

HONOR    .       ...       ....      -       -       -  J32 

BRUDE,  A  DRAMATIC  FANTASY *35 


NIRVANA  DAYS 


INVOCATION 
(From  a  High  Cliff} 

Sweep  unrest 
Out  of  my  blood, 

Winds  of  the  sea !    Sweep  the  fog 
Out  of  my  brain 
For  I  am  one 

Who  has  told  Life  he  will  be  free. 
Who  will  not  doubt  of  work  that's  done, 
Who  will  not  fear  the  work  to  do. 
Who  will  hold  peaks  Promethean 
Better  than  all  Jove's  honey-dew. 
Who  when  the  Vulture  tears  his  breast 
Will  smile  into  the  Terror's  Eyes. 
Who  for  the  World  has  this  Bequest- 
Hope,  that  eternally  is  wise. 


THE   FAIRIES   OF   GOD 

Last  night  I  slipt  from  the  banks  of  dream 

And  swam  in  the  currents  of  God, 

On  a  tide  where  His  fairies  were  at  play, 

Catching  salt  tears  in  their  little  white  hands, 

For  human  hearts ; 

And  dancing,  dancing,  in  gala  bands, 

On  the  currents  of  God; 

And  singing,  singing: — 

There  is  no  wind  blows  here  or  spray — 

Wind  upon  us! 

Only  the  waters  ripple  away 

Under  our  feet  as  we  gather  tears. 

God  has  made  mortals  for  the  years, 

Us  for  alway! 

God  has  made  mortals  full  of  fears, 


NIRVANA    DAYS  5 

Fears  for  the  night  and  fears  for  the  day. 

If  they  would  free  them  from  grief  that  sears, 

If  they  would  keep  all  that  love  endears, 

If  they  would  lay  no  more  lilies  on  biers — 

Let  them  say! 

For  we  are  swift  to  enchant  and  tire 

Time's  will! 

Our  feet  are  wiser  than  all  desiref 

Our  song  is  better  than  faith  or  fame; 

To  whom  it  is  given  no  ill  e'er  came, 

Who  has  it  not  grows  chill! 

Who  has  it  not  grows  laggard  and  lame, 

Nor  knows  that  the  world  is  a  Minstrel's  lyre, 

Smitten  and  never  still!  .  .  . 

Last  night  on  the  currents  of  God. 


A   SONG   OF   THE   OLD   VENETIANS 

The  seven  fleets  of  Venice 

Set  sail  across  the  sea 

For  Cyprus  and  for  Trebizond 

Ayoub  and  Araby. 

Their  gonfalons  are  floating  far, 

St.  Mark's  has  heard  the  mass, 

And  to  the  noon  the  salt  lagoon 

Lies  white,  like  burning  glass. 

The  seven  fleets  of  Venice — 

And  each  its  way  to  go, 

Led  by  a  Falier  or  Tron, 

Zorzi  or  Dandalo. 

The  Patriarch  has  blessed  them  all, 

The  Doge  has  waved  the  word, 
6 


NIRVANA   DAYS  7 

And  in  their  wings  the  murmurings 
Of  waiting  winds  are  heard. 

The  seven  fleets  of  Venice — 

And  what  shall  be  their  fate? 

One  shall  return  with  porphyry 

And  pearl  and  fair  agate. 

One  shall  return  with  spice  and  spoil 

And  silk  of  Samarcand. 

But  nevermore  shall   one  win  o'er 

The  sea,  to  any  land. 

Oh,  they  shall  bring  the  East  back, 
And  they  shall  bring  the  West, 
The  seven  Heels  our  Venice  sets 
A-sail  upon  her  quest. 
But  some  shall  bring  despair  back 
And  some  shall  leave  their  keels 
Deeper  than  wind  or  wave  frets^ 
Or  sun  ever  steals. 


NIRVANA   DAYS 


If  I  were  in  Japan  today, 

In  little  Japan  today, 
I'd  watch  the  sampan-rowers  ride 

On  Yokohama  bay. 
I'd  watch  the  little  flower-folk 

Pass  on  the  Bund,  where  play 
Of  "  foreign  "  music  fills  their  ears 

With  wonder  new  alway. 


Or  in  a  kuruma  I'd  step 

And  "  Noge-yama  !  "  cry, 
And  bare  brown  feet  should  wheel  me  fast 

Where  Noge-yama,  high 
8 


NIRVANA   DAYS 

Above  the  city  and  sea's  vast 
Uprises,  with  the  sigh 

Of  pines  about  its  festal  fanes 
Built  free  to  sun  and  sky. 


And  there  till  dusk  I'd  sit  and  think 

Of  Shaka  Muni,  lord 
Of  Buddhas;  or  of  Fudo's  fire 

And  rope  and  lifted  sword. 
And,  ere  I  left,  a  surging  shade 

Of  clouds,  a  distant  horde, 
Should  break  and  Fugi's  cone  stand  clear — 

With  sutras  overscored. 


Sutras  of  ice  and  rock  and  snow, 
Written  by  hands  of  heat 

And  thaw  upon  it,  till  'twould  seem 
Meant  for  the  final  seat 

Of  the  lord  Buddha  and  his  bliss — 
If  ever  he  repeat 


io  NIRVANA   DAYS 

This  life  where  millions  still  are  bound 
Within  Illusion's  cheat. 


ii 

Or  were  I  in  Japan  today — 

Perchance  at  Kyoto — 
Down  Tera-machi  I  would  search 

For  charm  or  curio. 
Up  narrow  stairs  in  sandals  pure 

Of  soil  or  dust  I'd  go 
Into  a  room  of  magic  shapes — 

Gods,  dragons,  dread  Nio. 

And  seated  on  the  silent  mats, 
With  many  a  treasure  near — 

Of  ivory  the  gods  have  dreamt, 
And  satsuma  as  dear, 

Of  bronzes  whose  mysterious  mint 
Seems  not  of  now  or  here — 


NIRVANA   DAYS 

I'd  buy  and  dream  and  dream  and  buy, 
Lost  far  in  Maya's  sphere. 


Then  gathering  up  my  gains  at  last, 

Mid  "  sayonaras  "  soft 
And  bows  and  gentle  courtesies 

Repeated  oft  and  oft, 
My  host  and  I  should  part — "  O  please 

The  skies  much  weal  to  waft 
His  years,"  I'd  think,  then  cross  San-jo 

To  fair  Chion-in  aloft. 


For  set  aloft  and  set  apart, 

Beyond  the  city's  din, 
Under  the  shade  of  ancient  heights 

Lies  templed  calm  Chion-in. 
And  there  the  great  bell's  booming  fills 

Its  gates  all  day,  and  thin 
Low  beating  on  mokugyo,  by 

Priests  passioning  for  sin. 


12  NIRVANA    DAYS 

And  there  the  sun  upon  its  courts 

And  carvings,  gods  and  graves, 
Rests  as  no  light  of  earth-lands  known, 

Like  to  Nirvana  laves 
And  washes  with  sweet  under-flow 

Into  the  soul's  far  caves. 
And  no  more  shall  this  life  seem  real 

To  one  who  feels  its  waves. 


"  No  more !  "  I'd  say,  then  wander  on 

To  Kiyomizu-shrine, 
Which  is  so  old  antiquity's 

Far  self  cannot  divine 
Its  birth,  but  knows  that  Kwannon,  she 

Of  mercy's  might  benign, 
Has  reached  her  thousand  hands  alway 

From  it  to  Nippon's  line. 


And  She  should  hear  my  many  prayers, 
And  have  my  freest  gifts. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  13 

And  many  days  beside  her  should 

I  watch  the  crystal  rifts 
Of  Otawa's  clear  waters  earn 

Their  way,  o'er  rocks  and  drifts, 
Beside  the  trestled  temple  down — 

Like  murmurs  of  sweet  shrifts. 


Then,  when  the  city  wearied  me, 

To  Katsura  I'd  wend — 
A  garden  hid  across  green  miles 

Of  rice-lands  quaintly  penned. 
And,  by  the  stork-bestridden  lake, 

I'd  walk  or  musing  mend 
My  soul  with  lotus-memories 

And  hopes — without  an  end. 


in 

Or  were  I  in  Japan  today, 
Hiroshima  should  call 


14  NIRVANA    DAYS 

My  heart — Hiroshima  built  round 

Her  ancient  castle  wall. 
By  the  low  flowering  moat  where  sun 

And  silence  ever  fall 
Into  a  swoon,  I'd  build  again 

Old  days  of  Daimyo  thrall. 

Of  charge  and  bloody  countercharge, 

When  many  a  samurai 
Fierce-panoplied  fell  at  its  pale, 

Suppressing  groan  or  cry ; 
Suppressing  all  but  silent  hates 

That  swept  from  eye  to  eye, 
While  lips  smiled  decorously  on, 

Or  mocked  urbane  goodbye. 


Then  to  the  river  I  would  pass 

And  drift  upon  its  tide 
By  many  a  tea-house  hung  in  bloom 

Above  its  mirrored  side. 


NIRVANA   DAYS  '5 

And  geisha  fluttering  gay  before 
Their  guests  should  pause  in  pied 

Kimono,  then  with  laughter  bright 
Behind  the  shoji  hide. 

Unto  an  isle  of  Ugina's 

Low  port  my  craft  should  swing, 
Or  scarce  an  island  seems  it  now 

To  my  fair  fancying, 
But  a  shrined  jut  of  earth  up  thro 

The  sea  from  which  to  sing 
Unto  the  evening  star  of  all 

Night's  incarnations  bring. 

Then  backward  thro  the  darkened  streets 

I'd  walk:  long  lanterns  writ 
With  ghostly  characters  should  dance 

Beside  each  door,  or  flit, 
Thin  paper  spirits,  to  and  fro 

And  mow  the  wind,  when  it 


16  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Demi.nded  of  them  reverence 
And  passed  with  twirl  or  twit. 

What  music,  too,  of  samisen 

And  koto  I  should  hear ! 
Tinkle  on  weirder  tinkle  thro 

The  strangely  wistful  ear 
What  shadows  on  the  shoji-door 

Of  my  dim  soul  should  veer 
All  night  in  sleep,  and  haunt  the  light 

Of  many  a  coming  year ! 


IV 

Or  were  I  in  Japan  today, 

From  Ujina  I'd  sail 
For  mountain-isled  Migajima 

Upon  the  distance,  frail 
As  the  mirage,  to  Amida, 

Of  this  world's  transient  tale, 


NIRVANA    DAYS  17 

Where  he  sits  clothed  in  boundless  light 
And  sees  it  vainly  ail. 

Up  to  the  great  sea-torii, 

Its  temple-gate,  I'd  wind, 
There  furl  my  sail  beneath  its  beam; 

And  soon  my  soul  should  find 
What  it  shall  never,  tho  it  sift 

The  world  elsewhere,  and  blind 
Itself  at  last  with  sight  of  all 

Earth's  blisses  to  mankind. 

"  Migajima  !     Migajima  ! " 

How  would  enchantment  chant 

The  syllables  within  me,  till 
Desire  should  cease  and  pant 

Of  passion  press  no  more  my  will — 
But  let  charmed  peace  supplant 

All  thought  of  birth  and  death  and  birth- 
Yea,  karma  turn  askant. 


NIRVANA    DAYS 

For  on  Migajima  none  may 

Give  birth  and  none  may  die — 
Since  birth  and  death  are  equal  sins 

Unto  the  wise.     So  I 
Should  muse  all  day  where  the  sea  spills 

Its  murmur  softly  by 
The  still  stone  lanterns  all  arow 

Under  the  deathless  sky. 

And  under  cryptomeria-tree 

And  camphor-tree  and  pine, 
And  tall  pagoda,  rising  roof 

On  roof  into  the  shine 
Of  the  pure  air — red  roof  on  roof, 

With  memories  in  each  line 
Of  far  Confucian  China  where 

They  first  were  held  divine. 

And  o'er  Migajima  the  moon 
Should  rise  for  me  again. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  19 

So  magical  its  glow,  I  dare 

Think  of  it  only  when 
My  heart  is  strong  to  shun  the  snare 

Of  witcheries  that  men 
May  lose  their  souls  in  evermore, 

Nor,  after,  care  nor  ken. 


Yes,  were  I  in  Japan  today 

These  things  I'd  do,  and  more. 
For  Ise  gleams  in  royal  groves, 

And  Nara  with  its  lore, 
And  Nikko  hid  in  mountains — where 

The  Shogun,  great  of  yore, 
Built  timeless  tombs  whose  glory  glooms 

Funereally  o'er. 


These  things  I'd  do !     But  last  of  all, 
On  Kamakura's  lea, 


NIRVANA    DAYS 

I'd  seek  Daibutsu's  face  of  calm 

And  still  the  final  sea 
Of  all  the  West  within  me — from 

Its  fret  and  fever  free 
My  spirit — into  patience,  peace, 

And  passion's  mastery. 


THE  YOUNG   TO   THE   OLD 

You  who  are  old — 

And  have  fought  the  fight — 

And  have  won  or  lost  or  left  the  field — 

Weigh  us  not  down 

With  fears  of  the  world,  as  we  run ! 

With  the  wisdom  that  is  too  right, 

The  warning  to  which  we  cannot  yield, 

The  shadow  that  follows  the  sun, 

Follows  forever ! 

And  with  all  that  desire  must  leave  undone, 

Though  as  a  god  it  endeavor; 

Weigh,  weigh  us  not  down! 


But  gird  our  hope  to  believ< 
That  all  that  is  done 

21 


22  NIRVANA   DAYS 

Is  done  by  dream  and  daring — 

Bid  us  dream  on ! 

That  Earth  was  not  born 

Or  Heaven  built  of  bewaring — 

Yield  us  the  dawn ! 

You  dreamt  your  hour — and  dared,  but  we 

Would  dream  till  all  you  despaired  of  be-, 

Would  dare — till  the  world, 

Won  to  a  new  wayfaring, 

Be  thence  forever  easier  upward  drawn! 


OFF   THE   IRISH   COAST 

Gulls  on  the  wind, 

Crying !  crying ! 

Are  you  the  ghosts 

Of  Erin's  dead? 

Of  the  forlorn 

Whose  days  went  sighing 

Ever  for  Beauty 

That  ever  fled? 

Ever  for  Light 

That  never  kindled? 

Ever  for  Song 

No  lips  have  sung? 

Ever  for  Joy 

That  ever  dwindled? 

Ever  for  Love  that  stung? 
23 


A    VISION    OF    VENUS    AND    ADONIS 

I  know  not  where  it  was  I  saw  them  sit, 
For  in  my  dreams  I  had  outwandered  far 
That  endless  wanderer  men  call  the  sea — 
Whose  winds  like  incantations  wrap  the  world 
And  help  the  moon  in  her  high  mysteries. 
I  know  not  how  it  was  that  I  was  led 
Unto  their  tryst;  or  what  dim  infinite 
Of  perfect  and  imperishable  night 
Hung  round,  a  radiance  ineffable; 
For  I  was  too  intoxicate  and  tranced 
With  beauty  that  I  knew  was  very  love. 
So  when  divinity  from  her  had  stolen 
Into  his  spirit,  as,  from  fields  of  myrrh 
Or  forests  of  red  sandal  by  the  sea, 

Steal  slaking  airs,  and  he  began  to  speak, 
24 


NIRVANA    DAYS  25 

I  could  but  gather  these  few  fleeting  words: 

"  Your  glance  sends  fragrance  sweeter  than  the  lily, 

Your  hands  are  visible  bodiments  of  song. 

You  are  the  voice  that  April  light  has  lost, 

Her  silence  that  was  music  of  glad  birds. 

The  wind's  heart  have  you,  and  its  mystery, 

When  poet  Spring  comes  piping  o'er  the  hills 

To  make  of  Tartarus  forgotten  fear. 

Yea  all  the  generations  of  the  world, 

Whose    whence    and   whither   but    the    gods    shall 

know, 

Are  vassal  to  your  vows  forevermore." 
And  she,  I  knew,  made  answer,  for  her  words 
Fell  warm  as  womanhood  with  wordless  things, 
But  I  had  drifted  on  within  my  dream, 
To  that  pale  space  which  is  oblivion. 


SOMNAMBULISM 


Night  is  above  me, 

And  Night  is  above  the  night. 

The  sea  is  beside  me  soughing,  or  is  still. 

The  earth  as  a  somnambulist  moves  on 

In  a  strange  sleep  .  .  . 

A  sea-bird  cries. 

And  the  cry  wakes  in  me 

Dim,  dead  sea-folk,  my  sires — 

Who  more  than  myself  are  me. 

Who  sat  on  their  beach  long  nights  ago  and  saw 

The  sea  in  its  silence; 

And  cursed  it  or  implored; 

Or  with  the  Cross  defied; 

Then  on  the  morrow  in  their  boats  went  down. 
26 


NIRVANA   DAYS  27 

II 

Night  is  above  me  ... 

And  Night  is  above  the  night. 

Rocks  are  about  me,  and,  beyond,  the  sand  .  .  . 

And  the  low  reluctant  tide, 

That  rushes  back  to  ebb  a  last  farewell 

To  the  flotsam  borne  so  long  upon  its  breast. 

Rocks.  .  .  .  But  the  tide  is  out, 

And  the  slime  lies  naked,  like  a  thing  ashamed 

That  has  no  hiding-place. 

And  the  sea-bird  hushes — 

The  bird  and  all  far  cries  within  my  blood — 

And  earth  as  a  somnambulist  moves  on. 


SERENATA   MAGICA 
(Venetian) 

My  gondola  is  a  black  sea-swan, 
And  glides  beneath  the  moon. 
Dark  palaces  beside  me  pass, 
Like  visions  in  a  beryl-glass 
Of  what  shall  never  be,  alas, 
Or  what  has  been  too  soon. 
Like  what  shall  never  be,  but  in 
The  breathing  of  a  swoon. 

My  gondola  is  a  black  sea-swan, 

And  makes  her  mystic  way 
From  door  to  phantom  water-door, 

While  carven  balconies  hang  o'er 

28 


NIRVANA    DAYS  29 

And  casements  framed  for  love  say  more 

Than  love  can  ever  say. 
Say  more  than  any  voice  but  voice 

Of  silent  magic  may. 

My  gondola  is  a  black  sea-swan — 

Rialto  lies  behind. 
And  by  me  the  Salute  swings, 
A  loveliness  that  must  take  wings 
And  vanish,  as  imaginings 

Within  an  Afrit's  mind; 
As  vague  and  vast  imaginings 

That  can  no  substance  find. 


My  gondola  is  a  black  sea-swan: 

San  Marco  and  the  shaft 
Of  the  slim  Campanile  steal 
Into  my  trance  and  leave  a  seal 
Upon  my  senses,  like  the  feel 
Of  long  enchantment  quaffed : 


3o  NIRVANA   DAYS 

Of  long  enchantments  such  as  songs 
Of  sage  Al  Raschid  waft. 

My  gondola  is  a  black  sea-swan 

And  gains  to  the  lagoon, 
Where  samphire  and  sea-lavender 
Around  me  float  or  softly  stir, 
While  far-off  Venice  still  lifts  her 

Fair  witchery  to  the  moon, 
And  all  that  wonder  e'er  gave  birth 
Seems  out  of  beauty  hewn. 


0-SHICHI    AND   MOTO 


O-Shichi,  all  my  heart  today 
Is  dreaming  of  your  fate; 
And  of  your  little  house  that  stood 
Beside  the  temple  gate ; 
Of  its  plum-garden  hid  away 
Behind  white  paper  doors; 

And  of  the  young  boy-priest  who  read  too  late  with 
you  love-lores. 

ii 

O-Shichi  dwelt  in  Yedo— where 
A  thousand  wonders  dwell, 
Gods,  golden  palaces  and  shrines 
That  like  a  charm  enspell. 


32  NIRVANA    DAYS 

O-Shichi  dwelt  among  them  there, 

More  wondrous,  she,  than  all 

A   flower  some   forgetful  god   had   from   his  hand 
let  fall. 


in 

And  all  her  days  were  as  the  dream 
On  flowers  in  the  sun. 
And  all  her  ways  were  as  the  waves 
That  by  Shin-bashi  run. 
And  in  her  gaze  there  was  the  gleam 
Of  stars  that  cannot  wait 

Too  long  for  love  and  so  fare  forth   from  heaven 
to  find  a  mate. 


IV 

O-Shichi  dwelt  so,  till  one  night 

When  all  the  city  slept, 

When  not  a  paper  lantern  swung, 


NIRVANA    DAYS  33 

When  only  fire-flies  swept 
Soft  cipherings  of  spirit-light 
Across  the  temple's  gloom — 

Sudden    a    cry    was    heard — the    cry    that    should 
O-Shichi  doom. 


For  following  the  cry  came  flame, 
A  Chaya's  roof  a-blaze. 
And  quickly  was  the  street  a  stream 
Of  stricken  folk,  whose  gaze 
Knew  well  that  when  the  morning  came 
Their  homes  would  be  but  smoke 
Vanished    upon    the    winds:    now    had    O-Shichi's 
fate  awoke. 


VI 

And  waited.    For  at  morning  priests 
In  pity  of  her  years 


34  NIRVANA    DAYS 

And  desolation  led  her  back 
Behind  the  great  god's  spheres; 
The  great  god  Buddha,  who  of  beasts 
And  men  all  mindful  was. 

O    Buddha,   in   thy   very   courts    O-Shichi   learned 
love's  laws! 

VII 

Love  of  the  body  and  the  soul, 
Not  of  Nirvana's  state ! 
Love  that  beyond  itself  can  see 
No  beauty  wise  or  great. 
O-Shichi  for  a  moon — a  whole 
Moon  happy  there  beheld 

The  young  boy-priest  whose  yearning  e'er  into  his 
eyes  upwelled. 

VIII 

So  all  too  soon  for  her  was  found 
Elsewhere  a  kindly  thatch. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  35 

And  all  too  soon  O-Shichi  heard 
Behind  her  close  love's  latch. 
They  led  her  from  the  temple's  ground 
Into  untrysting  days. 

And   all   too   soon   that   happy   moon   was   hid   in 
sorrow's  haze. 


IX 

For  now  at  dawn  she  rose  to  dress 
With  blooms  some  honored  vase, 
Or  to  embroider  or  brew  tea's 
Sweet  ceremonial  grace. 
Or  she  at  dusk,  in  sick  distress, 
Before  the  butsudan, 

Must  to  ancestral  tablets  pray — not  to  her  Moto- 
San! 


Not  unto  him,  her  love,  who  sways 
Her  breast,  as  moon  the  tide, 


36  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Whose  breath  is  incense — Ah,  again 
To  see  him  softly  glide 
Before  the  grave  god-idol's  gaze 
Of  inward  ecstasy, 

To  watch  the  great  bell  boom   for  him  its  mystic 
sutra-plea. 

XI 

But  weeks  grew  into  weariness, 
And  weariness  to  pain, 
And  pain  to  lonely  wildness,  which 
Set  fire  unto  her  brain. 
And,  "  I  will  see  my  love ! "  distress 
Made  fair  O-Shichi  cry, 

"  Tho  for  ten  lives  away  from  him  I  then  must  live 
and  die." 


XII 

Yet — no !     She  dared  not  go  to  him, 
To  her  he  could  not  come. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  37 

Then,  sudden  a  thought  her  being  swept 
And  struck  her  loud  heart  dumb. 
Till  in  her  rose  confusion  dim, 
Fear  fighting  with  Desire — 

Which  to  O-Shichi  took  the  shape  of  Fudo,  god 
of  fire. 


XIII 

And  Fudo  won  her:  for  that  night 
Did  fond  O-Shichi  dare 
To  set  aflame  her  father's  house, 
Hoping  again  to  share 
The  temple  with  her  acolyte, 
Her  lover-priest,  who,  spent 

With  speechless  passion  for  her  face,  in  vain  strove 
to  repent. 

XIV 

But  ah  !  what  destiny  can  do 
Is  not  for  folly's  hand. 


38  NIRVANA    DAYS 

The  flames  O-Shichi  kindled  were 
From  sea  to  Shiba  fanned. 
And  it  was  learned  a  love-sick  girl 
Had  charred  a  thousand  homes. 
Then  were  the  fury-smitten  folk  like  to  a  sea  that 
foams. 


xv 

And  so  they  seized  her:  but  not  in 
The  temple — O  not  there 
Had  she  been  led  again  by  priests 
In  pity — led  to  share 
Her  lover's  eyes;  no,  but  her  sin 
Brought  not  one  dear  delight 

To  poor  O-Shichi — who  was  now  to  look  on  her 
last  rite. 


XVI 

For  to  the  stake  they  bound  her — fire 
They  lit— to  be  her  fate.  .  .  . 


NIRVANA   DAYS  39 

O-Shichi,  have  I  dreamt  it  all? 
Your  face,  the  temple  gate, 
The  fair  boy-priest  shut  from  desire 
In  Buddhahood  to-be? 

Then  let  me  dream  and  ever  dream,  O  flower  by 
Yedo's  sea. 


AS   OF   OLD 

The  fishermen  bade  their  wives  farewell, 
(The  sun  floated  merry  up  the  morning) 
They  sang,  to  the  rhythm  of  the  low-swung  swell, 

"  O  come,  lads,  scorning 

The  highlands  high, 

There's  no  warning 

In  the  blue  south  sky, 

There's  no  warning, 

O  come,  lads,  free, 
We'll  cross  the  harbor  bar  and  put  to  sea ! " 


The  fisherwives  prayed,  the  sails  blew  fast, 
(O  home  it  is  happy  where  there's  hoping) 

They  prayed — till  the  mist  dimmed  each  dim  mast 
40 


NIRVANA    DAYS  41 

Then  "  We're  not  moping," 
They  sweetly  sang, 
"  Winds  come  groping 
And  clouds  o'erhang, 
But  we're  not  moping 
Tho  left  ashore ; 
They'll  come  to  us  at  dusk  when  day  is  o'er." 


But  swifter  than  God  the  sea-quake  came, 

(The  fishers  they  were  swallowed  in  its  swirling) 

O  swifter  than  men  could  name  God's  name. 

And  white  waves  curling 

Hissed  in  to  shore. 

The  sea-birds  whirling 

Saw  what,  dashed  hoar? 

The  sea-birds  whirling 

Saw  dead  upborne 
The  fishers  that  went  forth  upon  the  morn. 


A   PRAYER 

One  cricket  left,  of  summer's  choir. 
One  glow-worm,  flashing  life's  last  fire. 
One  frog  with  leathern  croak 
Beneath  the  oak, — 

And  the  pool  stands  leaden 
Where  November  twilights  deaden 
Day's  unspent  desire. 

One  star  in  heaven — East  or  West. 
One  wind — a  gypsy  seeking  rest. 
One  prayer  within  my  heart — 
For  all  who  part 

Upon  Death's  dark  portal, 
With  no  hope  of  an  immortal 

Morrow  for  life's  quest. 
42 


THE  SONG  OF  A  NATURE  WORSHIPER 

Live  !    Live  !    Live  ! 
O  send  no  day  unto  death, 

Undrained  of  the  light,  of  the  song,  of  the  dew, 
Distilling  within  its  breath. 
Drink  deep  of  the  sun,  drink  deep  of  the  night, 
Drink  deep  of  the  tempest's  brew, 
Of  summer,  of  winter,  of  autumn,  of  spring — 
Whose  flight  can  give  what  men  never  give ! — 
Live! 


Live  !     Live  !     Live  ! 

And  love  life's  every  throb: 

The  twinkling  of  shadows  enmeshed  in  the  trees, 

The  passionate  sunset's  sob; 

The  hurtling  of  wind,  the  heaving  of  hill, 
43 


44  NIRVANA    DAYS 

The  moon-dizzy  cloud,  the  seas 
That  sweep  with  infinite  sweeping  all  shores, 
And  thrill  with  a  joy  unfugitive  ! — 
Live! 


Live  !    Live  !     Live  ! 
Unloose  from  custom  and  care, 
From  duty  and  sorrow  and  clinging  design 
Thy  soul,  through  the  silent  Air. 
Go  into  the  fields  where  Nature's  alone 
And  drink  from  her  mystic  wine 
Divinity — till  thou  art  even  as  She, 
Great  all  ills  of  the  world  to  forgive ! 
Live! 


THE   INFINITE'S   QUEST 

All  night  the  rain 

And  the  wind  that  beat 

Dull  wings  of  pain 

On  the  seas  without. 

All  night  a  Voice 

That  broke  in  my  brain 

And  blew  blind  thoughts  about. 

All  night  they  whirled 
As  a  haunted  throng 
From  some  dim  world 
Where  there  is  no  rest. 
All  night  the  rain, 
And  the  wind  that  swirled, 

And  the  Infinite's  lone  quest. 
45 


LAD   AND   LASS 

I  heard  the  buds  open  their  lips  and  whisper, 
Whisper, 

"  Spring  is  here  !  " 
The  robins  listened 
And  sang  it  loud. 
The  blue-birds  came 
In  a  fluttering  crowd. 
The  cardinal  preached 
It  high  and  proud, 
Spring ! 

And  thro  the  warm  earth  their  song  went  trilling. 
Trilling, 

"  Wake  !     Arise  !  " 

The  kingcups  quickly 
46 


NIRVANA    DAYS  47 

Assembled,  strong. 
The  bluets  stept 
From  the  moss  in  throng. 
Like  fairies  too 
Came  the  cress  along. 
Spring ! 

And  love  in  your  breast,  my  lass,  awaking — 
Waking. 

Love  was  born ! 
Your  eyes  were  kindled, 
Your  lips  were  warm, 
Wild  beauties  broke 
From  your  face  and  form. 
And  all  my  heart 
Was  a  heaven-storm, 
Was  Spring ! 


THE    STRONG    MAN    TO    HIS    SIRES 

Tonight  as  I  was  riding  on  a  wave 

Of  triumph  and  of  glory, 
A  Question  suddenly,  as  from  the  grave, 

Rose  in  me,  culpatory. 

"  Whence  come  to  you  this  joyance  and  this 
strength  " 

It  said,  "this  might  of  vision? 
This  will  that  measures  all  things  to  its  length, 

That  cuts  with  calm  decision? 


"  This  blood  within  your  veins,  that  is  as  wine 

Which  Destiny's  self  blesses, 
Whence  flows  it,  from  what  grape  that  is  divine, 

Or  trodden  from  what  presses? 
48 


NIRVANA    DAYS  49 

"  Do  you  so  proud  forget  what  hands  have  borne 
You  to  the  heights  and  crowned  you? 

Would  you  behold  what  sackcloth  has  been  worn 
That  laurels  may  surround  you  ?  "  .  .  . 


"  I  would — O  lips  invisible  !  whose  breath  " — 

I  answered — "  so  arraigns  me ; 
Whose  voice  is  as  a  sound  sent  forth  of  Death, 

And  like  to  Death  entrains  me. 


"  I  would !     For  if  the  flesh  of  me  and  soul 

Are  fibred  with  the  ages, 
My  triumph  is  of  them  and  manifold 

Of  all  life's  mystic  stages." 


So,  forth  they  came — a  vast  ancestral  line, 

Upon  my  vision  teeming, 
All  shapes  whose  natal  semblance  could  affine 

Them  to  me,  faintly  gleaming. 


5o  NIRVANA    DAYS 

I  knew  them  as  I  knew  myself,  and  felt 

The  Day  of  each  within  me; 
And  so  began  to  speak,  the  while  they  dwelt 

About — they  who  had  been  me. 


"  My  Sires,"  I  said,  "  think  you  I  have  forgot 

The  fervor  of  your  living? 
How  into  me  is  moulded  all  you  thought. 

Of  getting  or  of  giving? 


"  Think  you  I  do  not  feel  my  every  drop 

Of  blood  is  as  an  ocean 
In  which  are  surging  and  will  never  stop 

All  things  your  hope  gave  motion? 


"  My  senses,  that  are  swift  to  take  delight 

And  shrine  it  in  their  being, 
Are  they  not  born  of  all  your  faith,  and  bright 

With  all  your  bliss  of  seeing? 


NIRVANA   DAYS  51 

"  And  my  full  heart  within  whose  fount  I  hear 

Your  voices  that  are  vanished, 
Can  it  forget  its  gratitude  or  fear 

Foes  that  you  braved  and  banished? 

"  No.     But  the  blindly  striving  years  that  led 

You  to  the  Rose's  beauty, 
Or  taught  you  out  of  111  to  disembed 

The  golden  veins  of  Duty; 


"  The  wasting  and  incalculable  wants 

That  in  you  quailed  or  quivered; 
The  longing  that  lit  stars  no  dark  now  daunts — 

/  know,  who  stand  delivered! 


"  To  you  then  from  whose  throng  the  centuries 
Long  dead  slip  now  their  shrouding, 

Who  from  oblivion's  profundities 
Rise  up,  and  round  are  crowding, 


53  NIRVANA    DAYS 

"  I  say,  Immortal  do  I  hold  your  will ! 

Its  gathered  might  ascending 
Is  sacred  with  the  unconquerable  might 

Of  God — who  sees  its  ending; 


"  Of  God — on  whose  strong  Vine,  Heredity, 

Rooted  in  Voids  primeval, 
The  world  climbs  ever  to  some  great  To-Be 

Of  passion  or  reprieval." 

I  said — and  on  night's  infinite  beheld 

Silence  alone  beside  me; 
And  majesty  of  greater  meanings  welled 

Into  my  soul,  to  guide  me. 


AT    STRATFORD 

I  could  not  sleep.     The  wind  poured  in  my  ear 
Immortal  names — Lear,  Hamlet,  Hal,  Macbeth, 
And  thro  the  night  I  heard  the  rushing  breath 
Of  ghost  and  witch  and  fool  go  whirling  by. 
I  followed  them,  under  the  phantom  sphere 
Of  the  pale  moon,  along  the  Avon's  near 
And  nimbused  flowing,  followed  to  his  bier — 
Who  had  evoked  them  first  with  mighty  eye. 
And  as  I  gazed  upon  the  peaceful  spire 
That  points  above  earth's  most  immortal  dust, 
I  could  have  asked  God  for  His  starry  Lyre 
Out  of  the  skies  to  play  my  praise  upon. 
I  could  have  shouted,  as,  O  Wind,  thou  must, 
"  Here  lies  Humanity :  kneel,  and  pass  on." 


53 


THE   IMAGE   PAINTER 

Up  under  the  roof,  in  cold  or  heat, 
Far  up,  aloof  from  the  city  street, 
She  sat  all  day 
And  painted  gray 
Cold  idols,  scarcely  human. 
And  if  she  thought  of  ease  and  rest, 
Of  love  that  spells  God's  name  the  best, 
Her  few  friends  heard  but  one  request — 
"  Pray  for  a  tired  little  woman." 

She  sat  from  dawn  till  weary  dusk. 
Her  hands  plied  on — with  but  a  husk 

Of  bread  to  break 

And  for  Christ's  sake 

To  bless :  was  He  not  human  ? 

54 


NIRVANA    DAYS  55 

Then  when  the  light  would  leave  her  brush 
She'd  sit  there  still,  in  the  dim  hush, 
And  say  aloud,  lest  tears  should  rush — 
"  Pray  for  a  tired  little  woman." 

They  found  her  so — one  morning  when 
A  knock  brought  no  sweet  welcome  ken 
Of  her  still  face 
And  cloistral  grace 
And  brow  so  bravely  human. 
They  found  her  by  the  window  bar, 
Her  eyes  fixed  where  had  been  some  star. 
O  you  that  rest,  where'er  you  are, 
Pray  for  the  tired  little  woman. 


WANDA 

"  She  shall  be  sportive  as  the  fawn 
That  wild  with  glee  across  the  lawn 
Or  up  the  mountain  springs  ;  " 

I'm  Wanda  born 

Of  the  mirthful  morn 
So  I  heard  the  red-buds  whisper 

To  the  forest  beech, 

Tho  I  know  that  each 
Is  but  a  gossipy  lisper. 


I  taunt  the  brook 
With  his  hair  outshook 

O'er  the  weir  so  cool  and  mossy, 
56 


NIRVANA    DAYS  57 

And  mock  the  crow 
As  he  peers  below 
With  a  caw  that's  vain  and  saucy. 


Where  the  wahoo  reds 

And  the  sumac  spreads 
Tall  plumes  o'er  the  purple  privet, 

I  beg  a  kiss 

Of  the  wind,  tho  I  wis 
Right  well  he  never  will  give  it. 


I  hide  in  the  nook 

And  sunbeams  look 
For  me  everywhere,  like  fairies. 

Then  out  I  glide 

By  the  gray  deer's  side — 
Ha,  ha,  but  he  never  tarries ! 


58  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Then  I  fright  the  hare 

From  his  turfy  lair 
And  after  him  send  a  volley 

Of  song  that  stops 

Him  under  the  copse 
In  wonderment  at  my  folly. 

And  Autumn  cries 

"  Be  sad  !  "  or  sighs 
Thro  her  nun  lips  palely  pouting. 

But  then  I  leap 

To  the  woods  and  keep 
It  wild  with  gleeing  and  shouting. 

And  when  the  sun 

Has  almost  spun 
A  path  to  his  far  Golconda, 

I  climb  the  hill 

And  listen,  still, 
While  he  calls  me—"  Wanda  !  W'anda  ! 


NIRVANA    DAYS  59 

And  then  I  go 

To  the  valley— Oh, 
My  dreams  are  sweeter  than  dreaming ! 

All  night  I  play 

Over  lands  of  Fay, 
In  delight  that  seems  not  seeming. 


IN   A    STORM 
(To  a  Petrel) 

All  day  long  in  the  spindrift  swinging, 
Bird  of  the  sea !  bird  of  the  sea ! 
How  I  would  that  I  had  thy  winging— 
How  I  envy  thee ! 

How  I  would  that  I  had  thy  spirit, 
So  to  careen,  joyous  to  cry, 
Over  the  storm  and  never  fear  it! 
Into  the  night  that  hovers  near  it! 
Calm  on  a  reeling  sky! 

All  day  long,  and  the  night,  unresting ! 

Ah !  I  believe  thy  every  breath 

Means  that  Life's  Best  comes  ever  breasting 

Peril  and  pain  and  death ! 
60 


ANTAGONISTS 


Life  flung  to  Art  this  voice,  of  mercy  bare, 
"  Fool,  to  my  human  earth  come  you,  so  free, 
To  wreathe  with  phantom  immortality 
Whoever  climbs  with  passionate  lone  care 
That  shifting,  feverous  and  shadow  stair 
To  Beauty — which  is  vainer  than  the  sea 
On  furious  thirst,  or  than  a  mote  to  Me 
Who  fill  yon  infinite  great  Everywhere? 
Let  them  alone — my  children !  they  are  born 
To  mart  and  soil  and  saving  commerce  o'er 
Wind,  wave  and  many-fruited  continents. 
And  you  can  feed  them  but  of  crumbs  and  scorn, 
And  futile  glory  when  they  are  no  more. 

Within  my  hand  alone  is  recompense  !  " 
61 


62  NIRVANA    DAYS 

II 

But  Art  made  fierce  reply,  "  Anathema, 
On  you  who  fill  flesh  but  the  spirit  scorn. 
Who  give  it  to  the  unrequiting  law 
Of  your  brute  soullessness  and  heart  unborn 
To  aught  than  barter  in  your  low  bazaar — 
Though  Beauty  die  for  it  from  star  to  star. 
You  are  the  god  of  Judas  and  those  who 
Betrayed  Him  unto  nail  and  thorn  and  sword ! 
Of  that  relentless  worm-bit  Florence  horde 
Who  drove  lone  Dante  from  them  till  he  grew 
So  great  in  death  they  begged  his  bones  to  strew 
Their  pride  and  wealth  and  useless  praise  upon. 
Anathema !  I  cry ;  and  will,  till  none 
Of  all  earth's  children  still  shall  worship  you." 


SEEDS 

A  thousand  years 
In  a  mummy's  hand 
A  seed  may  lie, 
Then,  planted,  spring 
Into  life  again 
Under  sun  and  sky. 

A  thousand  days 

In  a  soul's  dark  ways 

A  word  may  wait. 

But  a  touch  at  length 

May  arouse  its  strength 

And  the  word  proves — Fate. 


WORLD-SORROW 
(The  Cry  of  the  Modern) 

World-sorrow  have  I  known,  like  unto  God. 

Nothing  there  is  of  pain  but  echoes  down 

My  breast  with  wan  reverberance  and  pang, 

And  peaceless  passes  thro  it  evermore. 

The  struck  bird's  cry  wounds  my  all-feeling  blood 

To  pity  that  will  not  be  solaced, 

Sounds  on  me  like  far  pleas  of  the  unborn 

Against  predestined  days.     A  withering  bud 

Brews  barrenness  thro  all  the  verdancy 

Of  Spring.    And  in  a  tear — tho  anguish  shape  it 

On  the  warm  lid  of  joy — earth's  Tragedy, 

Whose  curtain  falls  not  for  it  has  no  end, 

Comes  mirrored  to  me  as  infinite  111. 
64 


NIRVANA    DAYS  65 

How  shall  I  'scape  it !     How,  O  how  escape 
The  trooping  of  prayers  lost  upon  the  void, 
Of  hopes  misborn  and  fading  not  to  rest ! 
How  shall  I  burn  not  with  all  vain-lit  loves 
That  alway  billow  thro  me  their  slow  fire 
Fed  by  the  agony  of  new-broke  hearts ! 
How  loose  me  from  too  long  commisery 
For  those  whom  unrequiting  Time  has  given 
To  the  altar  of  the  aching  world's  unrest! 
A  grief  immitigable  to  the  Hand 
Whose  mystery  of  returning  sun  can  heal 
Winter  away,  seems  here;  a  grief  but  calm 
Of  immortality  can  make  forgiven ! 


For  even  as  all  the  gleaming  girth  of  stars 
That  wreathe  the  Illimitable  beauteously 
Quench  not  the  vast  of  night,  so  do  all  joys 
Life  strews  along  her  passing  to  the  grave 
Prevail  not  o'er  the  shadow  of  sure  death. 
And  O  Humanity,  long-suffering  Harp 


66  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Of  passion-strings  unnumbered,  shall  His  skill 
Flung  thus  forever  o'er  thy  fragile  rest 
Build  but  these  harmonies  that  seem  sometimes 
Unworth  the  misery  of  the  trampled  worm? 
Would,  would  I  were  not  vibrant  with  all  strains 
He  strikes  from  thee,  or  else  more  perfect  tuned ! 
World-sorrow  have  I  known,  like  unto  God. 


THE   SOUL'S   RETURN 

Let  me  lie  here — 
I  care  not  for  the  distant  hills  today, 

And  the  blue  sphere 
Of  far  infinity  that  draws  away 

All  to  its  deep, 

Would  only  sweep 
Soothing  the  farther  from  me  with  its  sway. 

Let  me  lie  here — 
Gazing  with  vacant  sadness  on  this  weed. 

The  cricket  near 
Will  utter  all  my  heart  can  bear  to  heed. 

Another  voice 

Would  swell  the  noise 

And  surge,  that  ever  sound  in  human  need. 
6? 


68  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Let  me  lie  here: 
For  now,  so  long  my  wasted  soul  has  tossed 

On  the  wide  Mere 
Of  Mystery  Hope's  wing  alone  has  crossed, 

I  ask  no  more 

Than  to  restore 
To  simple  things  the  wonder  they  have  lost. 


BIRTHRIGHT 
(To  A.  H.  R.) 

My  own,  among  the  unnumbered  years 
God  casts  from  that  full  Garner  which 
Is  His  Eternity  one  shall 
Be  ours,  beyond  all  fate  or  fears. 

For,  ranging  lone  amid  its  thorns, 
Seeking  the  buds  that  grew  between, 
We  met  and  made  its  morning  seem 
New  in  a  world  grown  old  to  morns. 

And  so  tho  He  may  scatter  still 

Many  a  fadeless  other  round, 

In  none,  for  us  shall  there  be  found 

That  first  awakening  and  thrill. 
69 


70  NIRVANA    DAYS 

But  as  in  peace  we  tread  Love's  Land, 
To  which  it  gave  us  right  of  birth, 
We  shall  remember  that  New  Earth 
Came  when  we  first  walked  hand  in  hand. 


ROMANCE 
(To  A.  H.  R.  on  North  Cliff,  Lynton,  Devon) 

White-caps  hurry  to  meet  the  shore 
An  hundred  fathoms  down. 
Gray  sails  are  shimmering  on  the  wind 
Far  out  from  Lynmouth  town. 

High  crags  above  us  are  whispering  keen, 
The  heather  and  the  ling 
Laugh  to  the  sky  as  driven  by 
The  wild  gulls  cry  or  cling. 

And,  where  the  far  sun  like  a  god 
Scatters  the  mist,  lies  Shore. 
Is  it  Romance's  magic  realm 

Spring  reigns  forever  o'er? 

7* 


72  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Romance  that  our  morning  hearts  could  see 
Across  the  darkest  foam? 
Then  do  we  know  it  well,  my  love, 
Because  it  is  our  Home. 


ON    THE   ATLANTIC 
(To  'A.  H.  R.) 

Who  stood  upon  that  schooner's  driven  deck 
Last  night  as  reefed  and  shuddering  she  hove 
Into  the  twilight  and  all  desperate  drove 
From  wave  to  angrier  wave  that  sought  her  wreck  ? 
Who  labored  at  her  helm  and  watched  the  wind 
Stagger  the  sea  with  all  his  stunning  might, 
Until  in  dimness  dwindling  from  our  sight 
She  vanished  in  the  wrack  that  rode  behind? 
We  know  not,  you  and  I,  but  our  two  souls 
That  followed  as  storm-petrels  o'er  the  waves 
Felt  all  the  might  of  Him  who  sinks  or  saves, 
And  all  the  pity  of  earth's  unreached  goals. 
Felt  all — then  swift  returning  to  our  love 

Dwelt  in  its  peace,  uplifted  safe  above. 
73 


BY   A    SILENT    STREAM 

To  sit  by  a  silent  stream, 
Watching  water-lilies  dream : 

While  breezes  winnow 

The  floating  seeds, 

And  the  aery  minnow 
Weaves  his  wavy  web  among  the  reeds. 


Where  a  fallen  sycamore 
Whitely  arches  a  pathway  o'er, 

And  shadows  darkle 

The  lambent  cool, 

As,  softly  a-sparkle, 

Sunbeams  arrow  lightnings  thro  the  pool. 

74 


NIRVANA    DAYS  75 

Where  the  everlasting's  breath 
Odors  mysteries  of  death. 

Where  iron-weeds,  rusted 

Leaf  and  pod, 

By  insects  dusted, 
Rustle — then  in  autumn  sadness  nod. 


To  sit  ...  till  every  sense 

Lose  thought  of  whither  and  whence; 

Till  earth  and  heaven 

And  faith  and  fate 

No  longer  leaven 
Life,  with  hope  or  fear,  or  love  or  hate. 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  OF  KAMAKURA 
TO  THE  SPHINX 

Grave  brother  of  the  burning  sands, 
Whose  eyes  enshrine  forever 
The  desert's  soul,  are  you  not  worn 
Of  gazing  outward  to  dim  strands 
Of  stars  that  weary  never? 

Infinity  no  answer  has 

For  Time's  untold  distresses. 

Its  deepest  maze  of  mystery 

Is  but  Illusion  built  up  as 

The  blind  build  skies — with  guesses. 

Nor  has  Eternity  a  place 

On  any  starry  summit. 
76 


NIRVANA    DAYS  7; 

The  winds  of  Death  are  wide  as  Life, 
And  leave  no  world  untouched — but  race, 
And  soon  with  Night  benumb  it. 

And  Karma  is  the  law  of  soul 
And  star — yea,  of  all  Being. 
And  from  it  but  one  way  there  is, 
Retreat  into  that  tranced  Whole — 
Which  is  not  Sight  nor  Seeing; 

Which  is  not  Mind  nor  Mindlessness, 
Nor  Deed  nor  driven  Doer, 
Nor  Want  nor  Wasting  of  Desire; 
But  only  that  which  won  can  bless; 
And  of  all  else  is  pure. 

Turn  then  your  eyes  from  the  far  track 
Of  worlds,  and  gazing  inward, 
O  brother,  fare  where  Life  has  come, 
Yea,  into  its  far  Whence  fare  back. 
All  other  ways  are  sinward. 


NECROMANCE 

Can  heedless  gazing  teach  me  more  than  toil? 

Can  swaying  of  sere  sedge  along  the  slope, 

Or  the  dull  lisp  of  oaken  limbs  that  foil 

The  sun's  ensheathing  fervor,  interfuse 

My  vacant  being  with  far  meanings  whose 

Soft  airs  blow  from  the  hidden  seas  of  Hope? 

Or  can  the  wintry  sumac  sably  stooping 

So  charm  and  lift  my  heart  from  heartless  drooping 

When  other  healings  all  were  asked  in  vain? 

Yes — there  are  witcheries  in  the  things  of  earth 

That  breathe  with  an  illimitable  voice 

Wisdom  and  calm  to  us,  and  lure  to  birth 

Dim  intimations  bidding  us  rejoice 

Even  in  the  great  mystery  of  Pain. 


LOOK   NOT   TO   THE   WEST 

Look  not  to  the  west  where  the  sun  is  dying 

On  fields  of  darkening  clouds ! 
Look  not  to  the  west  where  the  wild  birds  nest 

And  the  winds  are  hieing 

To  sweep  away  sleep  from  the  forest, 
And  tatter  the  shrouds  of  sable  silence 
Lit  by  the  fire-fly's  morris-dance. 
Look  not  to  the  west — 

Tis  best  for  the  heart  to  hear  not  the  chants 

Of  Evening  over  day's  death ! 

Look  not  to  the  west  where  the  sun  is  dying — 

The  sun  that  rose  with  song ! 
Look  not  to  the  west  where  the  closed  quest 

Of  thy  soul  seems  lying; 
79 


8o  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Where  every  sorrow  that  ever 
Was  wed  with  wrong  in  human  breast, 
From  the  sea  of  its  radiance  never  fades ! 
Look  not  to  the  west — 

'Tis  best  for  the  heart  to  see  not  the  shades 
That  rise — the  wrecks  of  the  Past ! 


A   NIKKO    SHRINE 

Under  the  sway,  in  old  Japan, 

Of  silent  cryptic  trees, 
There  is  a  shrine  the  worldliest 

Would  near  with  bended  knees. 

Green,  thro  a  torii,  the  way 
Leads  to  it,  worn,  across 

A  rivulet  whose  voice  intones 
With  mystery  of  moss. 

A  mystery  that  is  everywhere : 
The  god  beneath  his  shrine 
Seems  but  a  mossy  shape — yet  so 

Ensheathed  is  more  divine. 
81 


NIRVANA    DAYS 

For  tho  Nature  has  muffled  him 
And  sealed  him  there  away, 

The  meaning  of  all  faith  remains — 
That  men  will  ever  pray. 

Aye  will,  as  long  as  soul  has  need, 

As  long  as  earth  is  sod 
With  tombs,  bow  down  the  knee  to  all 

That  wakens  in  them  God. 


THE   QUESTION 

I  shall  lie  so  one  day, 
With  lips  of  Silence  set; 
Eyes  that  no  tear  can  wet 
Again:  a  thing  of  Clay. 

I  shall  lie  so,  and  Earth 
Will  seize  again  her  dust — 
Though  she  must  gnaw  and  rust 
The  coffin's  iron  girth. 

I  shall  lie  so — and  they 
Who  still  the  Day  bestride, 
Will  stand  so  by  my  side 
And  with  sad  yearning  say: 


84  NIRVANA    DAYS 

"  What  is  he  now,  this  man, 
Shut  in  a  pallor  there, 
His  spirit  that  could  dare, 
What — what  now  is  its  span? 


"  A  withered  atom's  space 
Within  a  withered  brain? 
Or  can  it  from  the  Wain 
To  far  Orion  race?" 

And,  like  all  that  have  died, 
I  shall  but  answer — naught. 
Yet  Time  this  truth   has   taught 
The  Question— will  abide. 


I'LL   LOOK   NO   MORE 

I'll  look  no  more !  thro  timeless  hours  my  eyes 
Without  intent  have  watched  the  slowing  flight 
Of  ebon  crows  across  quiescent  skies 
Till  all  are  gone;  the  last,  a  lonely  bird, 
Scudding  to  rest  thro  streams  of  golden  curd 
That  flow  far  eastward  to  the  coming  night. 
And  as  I  turn  again  to  foiling  thought 
My  spirit  leaves  me — as  faint  zephyrs  leave 
The  trees  at  evening;  tho  all  day  they've  sought 
A  place  to  hide  them  in  and  fondly  grieve. 
And  silently  the  slow  oil  sinks  beneath 
The  noiseless  burning  wick  of  yellow  flame. 
It  is  as  if  God  back  to  him  would  breathe 
All  the  world's  given  life,  and  end  its  Aim. 


NIGHTS   OCCULTISM 

Northward  the  twilight  thro  dark  drifts 
Of  cloud-wreck  lingers  cold. 

Southward  the  sated  lightning  sinks 
Beneath  the  wooded  wold. 


Eastward  immovable  deep  shade 
Is  sealed  with  mystery. 

Westward  a  memory  of  dead  gold 
Wakes  on  a  sunset  sea. 

Under,  is  earth's  still  orbiting; 

Over,  a  clearing  star: 
In  all,  the  spirit  litany 

Of  life's  strange  avatar. 
86 


UNCROWNED 

I  am  not  other  than  men  are,  you  say? 

But  faulty  and  failing?    And  your  love  can  lend 

No  glory  of  illusion  to  o'erlay 

The  lack,  and  make  me  seem  one  in  whom  blend 

Nobilities  wherein  your  heart  may  lose 

All  that  it  feels  of  flaw  in  me,  or  rues? 

Can  it  so  be?     Did  ever  woman  love 

Whose  faith  wreathed  not  about  the  brow  she  chose 

Aureolas  illumining  him  above 

All  that  another  thinks  he  is,  or  knows? 

I  ask  it  bravely,  for  the  way  is  long, 

And,  haloless,  should  I  not  lead  you  wrong? 


WRITTEN   IN   HELL 

(By  Sir   Giles,   whom  the    Witch   of   Urm   leads 
to  Judas  Iscariot) 

Against  a  castle  moated  gloomily  by  a  bitter  drain 

of  blood, 

From  whose  fetid  wave  contumely 
Of  all  truth  was  reeking  fumily 
And  infectiously,  I  stood; 

Waiting  for  her  sign — 

A  shriek  repeated  nine. 

I  shrank  at  every  aspish  quivering  fear  set  crawl 
ing  in  my  breast. 
But  betimes  I  felt  a  shivering 

Shriek  cut  ear  and  brain  with  slivering 
88 


NIRVANA    DAYS  89 

Stings  of  terror,  sin,  unrest — 
Christ!  it  raised  the  dead 
Out  of  the  moat's  black  bed. 


Nine  times — and  then   across   the  thickening  reek 

a  rusty  draw  was  dropped ; 
Thro  portcullis  sped  a  quickening 
Shadow  past  to  where  with  sickening 
Feet,  befixed  by  awe  I  stopped — 

There  she  laughed  a  laugh 

No  devil's  soul  could  quaff. 


I  swear  its  clamor  tore  the  stuttering  leaves  from 

shrub  and  shrunken  tree ; 
Swear  no  limbo  e'er  heard  muttering 
Like  that  spawn  of  echoes  sputtering 
Midnight  with  their  drunken   glee — 

Yet,  ere  half  were  done, 

I  could  not  hear  a  one. 


9o  NIRVANA    DAYS 

She   put  her  finger  burning  eerily   to  my  lips — I 

heard  them  lock. 

Led  me  then  a  marsh-way,  cheerily — 
Tho  the  quick  ooze  spurted  drearily 
Thro  root-rotten  curd  and  rock. 

Things  like  water-ghouls 

Slid  slimily  in  pools. 

She  stepped  just  once  upon  a  hideous  burrow,  dank 

and  haired  with  grass; 
Fixed  upon  me  eyes  perfidious 
As  a  fiend's  are,  yet  insidious — 
Questioned  if  I  dared  to  pass. 

"  I  will  search  all  Hell 

To  find  him,"  from  me  fell. 

And  so  was  drawn  thro  dark  cadaverous  with  the 

sound  of  gabbling  dead. 
Where  we  heard  them  hoot  palaverous 
Drivel  learned  beneath  unsavorous 


NIRVANA    DAYS  91 


Moulds,  and  saw  a  glutton's  head 
Grin  to  a  hissing  bat, 
That  scraped  him  as  he  spat. 


Witch  she  was,  I  knew,  turned  shepherdess  to  a 

soul  blind  as  a  sheep's. 
But  I  dogged  her  on  o'er  jeopardous 
Steeps  down  which  she  sped  with  leopardess 
Limbs  into  miasmic  deeps. 

"  Swim,"  she  gasped  behind — 

Then  like  a  she-wolf  whined. 


It  almost  seemed  to  me  as  deadening  as  the  sluice 

of  dreary  Styx. 

Fire  and  foulness  mixed  with  leadening 
Slush  I  drank;  but  swam  the  reddening 
Stuff  a  league  with  weary  licks. 

Up  a  sulphurous  bank 

We  climbed,  and  there  I  sank. 


92  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Again  she  laughed  that  laugh — a  shrivelling,  ghast 
ly,  gaunt,  uncanny  spate. 
Up  I  sprang  and  cursed  my  snivelling 
Soul  for  weariness — for  drivelling, 
And  for  so  forgetting  Hate. 

"  You  will  find  him  there  ", 

She  pointed — thro  her  hair. 


I    write    these    words    from    Hell    where    bloodily 

locked  with  him  in  fight  I  woke. 
Where  we  fall  down  caverns  ruddily 
Spilt  with  glazing  gore  and  muddily 
Dashed  with  stagnant  night  and  smoke. 

Yet  I  do  not  care, 

For  he  groans  by  me — there. 


AT   THE   HELM 
{Nova  Scotian} 

Fog,  and  a  wind  that  blows  the  sea 
Blindly  into  my  eyes. 
And  I  know  not  if  my  soul  shall  be 
When  the  day  dies. 

But  if  it  be  not  and  I  lose 

All  that  men  live  to  gain — 

I  who  have  little  known  but  hues 

Of  wind  and  rain — 

Still  I  shall  envy  no  man's  lot, 
For  I  have  held  this  great, 
Never  in  whines  to  have  forgot 
That  Fate  is  Fate. 
93 


DEAD   LOVE 

If  this  should  never  end — 

This  wandering  in  oblivious  mood 

Along  a  rutless  road  that  leads 

From  wood  to  deeper  wood — 

This  crunching  with  unheedful  foot 

Acorns,  I  think,  and  withered  leaves  .  .  . 

Perhaps  a  rotten  root — 

If  this  should  never  end — 

This  seeing  with  insentient  eyes 

Something  that  seems  like  earth,  and,  too, 

Like  overbending  skies; 

This  feeling,  well — that  time  is  space, 

Space,  time;  and  each  a  pallid  glass 

In  which  Life  sees  her  face — 
94 


NIRVANA    DAYS  95 

If  it  should  never  end — 

The  road,  the  wandering  and  the  feel 

Of  dead  infinities  that  seem 

O'er  our  dead  sense  to  steal, 

And  like  seas  cease  above — 

Would  it  much  matter,  love? 


MORTAL    SIN 
(Song  for  a  drama) 

Much  the  wind 

Knows  of  my  heart, 

Though  he  whispers  in  my  ear 

That  he  has  seen  me  burn  and  start 

When  I  dream  of  your  breast,  my  dear, 

Much  the  wind 

Knows  of  my  soul ! 

For  no  soul  has  he  to  lose 

On  a  mistress  who  can  dole 

Kisses  that  drug  as  poison-dews. 


96 


SEA-MAD 
(A  Breton  Maid) 

Three  waves  of  the  sea  came  up  on  the  wind  to  me ! 
One  said: 

"  Away  !  he  is  dead  ! 
Upon  my  foam  I  have  flung  his  head ! 
Go  back  to  your  cote,  you  shall  never  wed ! — 
(Nor  he!)" 

Three  waves  of  the  sea  came  up  on  the  wind  to  me. 
Two  brake. 

The  third  with  a  quake 
Cried  loud,  "  O  maid,  I'll  find  for  thy  sake 
His  dead  lost  body:  prepare  his  wake!" 
(And  back  it  plunged  to  the  sea!) 
97 


98  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Three  waves  of  the  sea  came  up  on  the  wind  to  me. 
One  bore — 

And  swept  on  the  shore — 
His  pale,  pale  face  I  shall  kiss  no  more! 
Ah,  woe  to  women  death  passes  o'er ! 
(Woe's  me!) 


THE  DEATH-SPRITE 

(A  ballad  for  God} 
A.D.  909 

Three  kings  with  naught  of  a  care 

To  a  hunting  went; 
Three  kings  of  stirrup  fair 

And  of  yew-bow  bent. 

Away  they  rode  with  a  song 

On  the  summer  tide; 
Away  from  thrid  and  throng 

By  the  blue  lake  side. 

And  "  Ho  !  "  they  vaunted  aloud 

To  the  morning  hills. 
And  "  Ha  !  "—What  reck  the  proud 

For  the  God  of  Ills? 
99 


ioo  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Naught !  so  they  swagged  thro  the  glade 

Where  the  roe-buck  rose : 
She  nosed  the  wind,  affrayed 

By  the  blod  "  Ho,  hos !  " 


"  Three  arrows  now  to  her  heart !  " 

They  shouted,  and  sped, 
Each  king,  an  evil  dart 

With  a  flinten  head. 


And  O  she  staggered  down — 

O  unpitied,  slain ! 
But  in  her  dreadful  swoun 

There  was  more  than  pain  ! 


For  Horror  sprang  from  her  blood, 

A  Spectre  of  Death  ! 
It  drew  them  thro  the  wood — 

Where  a  Chapel  saith 


NIRVANA    DAYS 

Masses  for  souls  that  are  lost 

In  the  wilds  of  sin — 
There  mumbled,  "  Ye'll  pay  cost 

Ere  to  shrift  ye  win  !  " 


Then  led  them  to  a  bay  tree 

By  an  open  grave, 
Where  three  ghost-kings  in  three 

Stony  coffins  clave. 

Which  spake,  "  Lo,  we  too  were  fair  !  " — 

"  Unto  this  ye'll  come  !  " — 
"  Ay  ye,  who  of  naught  beware  !  " — 

So  spake — and  were  dumb. 


Then  of  fright  and  dread  the  kings  flung 

Away  yew-tree  bow 
(The  Chapel  bell  slow  rung 

With  the  bleak  wind's  blow). 


io3  NIRVANA    DAYS 

And  fast  they  fled  thro  the  glade 

To  the  castle  hall. 
But  God  had  not  been  stayed — 

They  were  lepers f  all! 


Woe  then  to  kings !  to  the  pelf 

That  men  call  pride ! 
Christ  shrive  us  all  from  self, 

From  the  Death-sprite  hide! 


WORMWOOD 
(In  Old  England) 

What  is  he  whispering  to  her  there 

Under  the  hedge-row  spray? 
"Spring,  Spring,  Spring?" — Is  the  world  so  fair 
To  him,  fool,  that  he  has  no  care 

As  he  cuckoos  it  all  day  ? 

Is  he  quite  sure — quite  sure  the  sap 

Of  life's  not  hate,  but  love  ? 
If  I  should  tell  him  there's  no  gap 
Between  her  and  a  ...  nameless  hap, 

Would  he  still  want  his  "dove"? 


Or  would  he  go  as  blind  to  buds 

As  I  am,  who  watch  here, 
103 


io4  NIRVANA    DAYS 

While  he  is  pouring  poet  floods 
From  his  thin  lips,  and  while  his  blood's 
Burning  for  her  so  near? 


It  would  be  swords — swords !  .  .  .  And  his  steel 

Should  rip  death  from  my  breast. 
But  would  he  ever  know  the  feel 
Of  Spring  again,  of  its  ribald  reel, 

As  once  /  did,  the  best? 

No !     He  would  curse  henceforward  leaf 

And  flower  and  light — as  I. 
Spring? — It  is  fire,  lust,  ashes,  grief — 
All  that  a  Hell  can  hold,  in  fief !  ... 

He'll  learn  it  ere  he  die. 


QUEST    AND    REQUITAL 


(Before  He  Comes} 

Sweet  under  swooning  blue  and  mellow  mist 
September  waves  of  forest  overflow 
The  hills  with  crimson,  amaranth  and  gold. 
Winds  warm  with  the  memory  of  scented  hours 
Dead  Summer  gathers  in  her  leafy  lap, 
Rustle  the  distance  with  dim  murmurings 
That  sink  upon  the  air  as  soft  as  shades 
Dropt  from  the  overleaning  clouds  to  earth ; 
While  golden-rod  and  sedge  and  aster  hushed 
In  sunny  silence  and  the  oblivion 
Of  life  drawn  from  the  insentient  veins  of  Time, 
Await  the  searing  swoon  of  Autumn's  reign. 
It  is  a  day  when  death  must  seem  as  birth, 

And  birth  as  death ;  and  life — till  love  comes — pain. 
105 


io6  NIRVANA    DAYS 


II 

(He  Has  Come) 

These  are  the  leafy  hills  and  listless  vales 

Of  iridescent  Autumn — this  the  oak 

Against  whose  lichened  bole  I  leant  and  looked 

Away  the  sunny  hours  of  afternoon. 

Here  are  the  bitter-sweet  and  elder  sprays 

I  fingered,  dreaming  to  the  muted  flow 

Of  breezes  overhead — and  here  the  word 

I  wrote  unwittingly  upon  the  soil. 

How  long  ago  it  was  I  cannot  tell: 

The  loneliness  of  unrequited  love 

Lies  like  a  blank  eternity  between 

Those  hours  and  these  I  hear  slip  thro  my  heart. 

I  only  know  all  days  I've  ever  seen 

Must  seem  now  of  some  other  life  apart ! 


NIRVANA    DAYS  107 


in 
(He  Loves) 

"  Will  you  let  any  moment  dip  its  wing 
Into  your  heart  and  find  no  love  of  me 
To  tint  with  deathless  Dream  " — he  said — "  and 

Spring, 

Its  flight  to  the  dim  bourne  of  memory? 
Will  you  have  any  grief  that  can  forget 
How  grief  should  find  forgetfulness  in  love? 
And  since  your  soul  in  my  soul's  zone  is  set 
Will  it  sometimes  ask  other  spheres  to  rove 
Where  touch  and  voice  of  me  shall  not  be  met? 
Ah  no !  in  all  the  underdeeps  of  Death 
Or  overheights  of  Life  it  still  shall  be 
At  tryst  with  mine  thro  moan  or  ecstasy. 
In  all !  "...  Yet  ere  a  year  he'll  draw  no  breath 
But  is  another's  ! — Will  God  let  it  be  ? 


io8  NIRVANA    DAYS 

IV 

(Betrayed  by  Him) 

All  day  I've  bent  my  heart  beneath  the  yoke 
Of  goading  toil,  remembering  to  forget, 
To  still  upon  my  lips  his  kiss  that  woke 
Me  in  elysian  love  one  word  has  broke — 
One  stinging  word  of  severance  and  regret. 
All  day  I've  blotted  from  my  eyes  his  face, 
But  now  at  evening  tide  it  comes  again, 
And  memories  into  my  darkened  soul 
Rush  as  the  stars  into  high  heaven's  space. 
As  the  bright  stars  !     But,  ah,  tomorrow  !  when 
Once  more  I  must  forget  and  see  life's  goal, 
That  was  so  green,  with  sering  laurel  hung. 
Tomorrow  and  tomorrow  !  till  is  wrung 
Peace  from  the  piteous  hours  I  strive  among ! 


NIRVANA    DAYS  ioy 


(Finding  No  Peace} 

I  say  unto  all  hearts  that  cannot  rest 

For  want  of  love,  for  beating  loud  and  lonely, 

Pray  the  great  Mercy-God  to  give  you  only 

Love  that  is  passionless  within  the  breast. 

Pray  that  it  may  not  be  a  haunting  fire, 

A  vision  that  shall  steal  insatiably 

All  beauteous  content,  all  sweet  desire, 

From  faith  and  dream,  star,  flower,  and  song,  and 

sea. 

But  seek  that  soul  and  soul  may  meet  together 
Knowing  they  have  forever  been  but  one — 
Meet  and  be  surest  when  ill's  chartless  weather 
Drives  blinding  gales  of  doubt  across  their  sun. 
Pray — pray!  lost  love  uptorn  shall  seem  as  nether 
Hell-hate  and  rage  beyond  oblivion. 


no  NIRVANA    DAYS 


VI 

(In  After  Years  to  Him} 

You  say  that  love  then  led  us — you  and  me  ? 
I  say  'twas  hate,  that  wore  love's  wanting  eyes : 
Hate  that  I  could  not  tear  away  the  lies 
That  wrapped  you  with  their  silken  sorcery. 
Hate  that  for  you  I  could  not  open  skies 
Where  beauty  lives  of  her  own  loveliness; 
That  God  would  give  me  no  omnipotence 
To  purge  and  mould  anew  your  soul's  numb  sense. 
Aye,  hate  that  I  could  love  you  not  tho  love 
Pent  in  me  ached  with  passion-born  distress — 
While  thro  unfathomable  dark  the  Prize 
Seemed  sinking,  as  my  soul,  from  heaven  above. 
Love,  say  you?  love?  and  hate  rent  us  apart? 
I  tell  vou  hate  alone  so  tears  the  heart. 


NIRVANA    DAYS 


VII 

(To  Him  After  His  Death} 

God  who  can  bind  the  stars  eternally 

With  but  a  breath  of  spirit  speech,  a  thought; 

Who  can  within  earth's  arms  lay  the  mad  sea 

Unseverably,  and  count  it  as  sheer  naught; 

With  his  All-might  could  bind  not  you  and  me. 

For  tho  He  pressed  us  heart  to  burning  heart 

And  set  then  to  the  passion  that  enthralls 

His  sanction,  still  our  souls  stood  e'er  apart, 

As  aliens  beating  fierce  against  the  walls 

Of  dark  unsympathy  that  would  upstart. 

Stood  aliens,  aye !  and  would  tho  we  should  meet, 

Beyond  the  oblivion  of  unnumbered  births, 

Upon  some  world  where  Time  cannot  repeat 

The  feeblest  syllable  that  once  was  earth's. 


LOVE    IN    EXTREMIS 

I  care  not  what  they  say  who  hold 
We  should  speak  but  of  life  and  joy 
I  have  met  death  in  one  I  love, 
Death  lusting  to  destroy. 


And  I  have  fought  him  vein  by  vein, 
Loosened  his  cold  and  creeping  clutch, 
Driven  him  from  her — twice  and  thrice- 
With  might  too  much. 


Yet  with  too  little  !  for  I  know 
That  she  at  last  will  lie  there  still. 
Then  all  my  fire  of  love  shall  fail 
To  thaw  that  chill; 

112 


NIRVANA    DAYS  113 

For  it  will  freeze  light  from  her  eyes, 
Pulse  from  her  breast  and  from  her  soul 
Me,  whom  no  opiate  of  peace 
Can  e'er  console. 


None:  .  .  .  till  I  follow  her,  in  time, 
And  find  her,  though  all  Dust  deny ! 
With  that  to  be  I'll  front  the  day, 
And  fronting  die. 


OVER   THE   DREGS 

If  I  had  died  last  year  when  Death 

And  I  were  at  finger-tips,  till  Life 

Slipping  between  blew  her  warm  breath 

Into  my  heart  again  and  veins, 

And  opened  my  eyes  and  nulled  my  pains — 

If  I  had  died  where  would  you  be? 

You  so  passionate,  yet  quick 

To  escape  from  passion's  mastery, 

When  clasping  and  kiss  and  touch  are  gone, 

And  days  and  space  are  between  us  drawn? 

Where  would  you  be  ?    My  arms  you  chose — 
Arms  too  ready  to  seize  and  sin — 

And  kept  no  burning  forbiddance  in  those 
114 


NIRVANA   DAYS  115 

Still  eyes  of  yours,  or  else,  I  think  .  .  . 
No  !     I  unsay  it !     No  !  ...  So  drink. 

Drink !     the     last     glass !       And     then  ..."  My 

thought  ? " 

It  is  that  when  we've  reached  the  last 
Of  pleasure  we  are  like  two  who've  fought, 
Who  have  no  common  love  but  love 
Of  fighting — so  does  our  passion  prove ! 

For  it  is  only  passion — such ! 
Tho  clasping  and  kiss  and  touch  were  love, 
A  little — and  sometimes,  maybe,  much, 
When  soul  and  heaven  looked  far  away, 
And  flesh  seemed  only  flesh — and  clay. 

But,  it  is  ended !     So,  drink !  .  .  .  How 
You've  ruined  me,  as  I  have  you ! 
All  that  you  might  have  been !  and — now ! 
All  that  I  was,  until  .  .  .  'Tis  clear 
I  should  have  died  in  Spring  last  year. 


BEWITCHED 
(On  a  Devon  Moor) 

Why  do  I  babble  of  bitter  chills— 

And  icy  trees — and  snowy  fallows? 

Why  do  I  shudder  as  twilight  spills 

A  ghostly  gray  and  the  bent  moon  sallows 

The  moor  with  her  wicked  flame  ? 

Why  do  the  gibbering  croons  of  the  hag 

In  her  hut  by  the  wood 

Go  muttering,  muttering  in  my  blood — 

Till  the  hoot  of  an  owl 

On  the  snag  of  a  tomb 

Breaks  out  of  the  gloom 

Like  the  wail  of  a  witch's  name? 

Ugh,  it  is  drawing  my  feet  away — 

The  road's  gone  !  the  moonlet's  sunken ! 
116 


NIRVANA    DAYS  117 

What  shall  I  do  if  it  comes  to  fray 

With  fiends  invisible,  wild  and  drunken — 

Fiends-  on  a  churchless  fell ! 

Ha,  is  it  cracking  of  ice  in  the  bog 

That  is  clutching  my  throat, 

Or  devils  gnawing  the  widow's  shoat? 

By  the  Cross  of  the  Christ, 

There's  a  fog  that  is  black 

As — U-r-r  ! — at  my  back  ! — 

They  are  dragging  me  .  .  .  down  to  ...  hell ! 


QUARREL 

And  is  it  so 

That  two  who  stand 

Heart  closed  in  heart, 

Hand  knit  to  hand, 

Can  let  love  go 

Asunder,  so? 

Speak  hard — not  understand? 

That  one  asks  much? 
One  gives  too  small? 
And  so  is  lost, 
It  may  be — All? 
That  for  a  touch 
Of  pride  we  such 

A  heaven  can  let  fall? 
118 


NIRVANA    DAYS  119 

No  ! — But  to  Fate 
Say  with  me,  "  Go : 
Death  may  bring  dross 
But  this  I  know; 
Love  can  abate 
Life's  harshest  hate, 
So  loving  I  bend  low." 


OF   THE   FLESH 
(At  Monte   Carlo} 

We  met  upon  the  street; 
Quick  passion  sprung  into  the  eye  of  each; 

No  dilettante  heat ! 
For  though  I  do  not  love  her  now,  beseech 

You,  signor,  do  you  think 
We  could  face  so  in  any  spot,  nor  fear 

To  leap  the  fatal  brink 
Into  each  other's  arms — that,  once  a-near, 

Hell's  self  could  make  us  shrink? 

No,  no !     Such  love  as  ours 

Stabbed   peace   heart-deep   and   burnt   the   flesh   to 
mad. 

It  scorned  the  simple  powers 
Of  sympathy  and  mild  repose,  and  had 


NIRVANA    DAYS  121 

One  thirst  alone — to  hold 
Each  other  mouth  to  still  unsated  mouth 

Until,  perchance,  the  cold 

And   damp    of   death    should   end   some   night   its 
drouth. 


But  only  day  would  come, 
Unlock  our  arms  and  show  us  duty's  eye 

Calm,  pale,  and  sternly  dumb. 
And  so  we'd  swear  never  to  kiss  or  sigh 

Again — for  well  we  knew 
God  grants  such  boons  only  to  man  and  wife. 

But  night  distilled  the  dew 
Of  loneliness — and  so,  once  more,  that  life. 


And  how  was  the  spell  burst? 
Each  long  embrace  seemed  sweeter  than  the  last 

Each  dulling  heart-beat  nurst 
The  shame,  until  I  tore  me  from  the  past, 


i22  NIRVANA    DAYS 

And  cried,  "  I  hate  my  soul, 
And  thine  and  this  false  love !  "     She  fainted — fell. 

I  kissed  her  lips  .  .  .  stole 
The  ring  that  choked  her  finger  .  .  .  said  farewell. 


And  since  then  Time  has  pressed 
Ten  restless  years.     But  if  I  saw  her  lay 

Her  hand  upon  her  breast, 
As  once  she  used,  and  send  her  soul  to  say 

A  word  with  those  dark  eyes  .  .  . 
Ha,   what   is  that,   signer  ?  "  Respect  ?  ...  My 
wife?" 

That's  as  may  be.    You  rise  ? 
Adieu,  signer.     Fate  deals  the  cards  in  life. 


A   DEATH   SONG 
(For  a  Drama) 

Toll  no  bell  and  say  no  prayer, 
Let  no  rose  die  on  my  bier. 
All  I  hoped  for  shall  appear 
Or  be  well  forgotten,  there. 
(Like  the  waves  of  yesteryear.) 


Toll  no  bell  and  drop  no  sigh, 
Bear  me  softly  to  the  tomb ; 
Life  was  dark,  but  light  is  nigh- 
Light  no  sorrow  shall  consume 

(And  no  kiss  of  love— or  cry). 

"3 


i24  NIRVANA   DAYS 

Toll  no  bell ;  the  clod  will  toll 
Grief  enough  for  any  ear. 
When  the  last  has  sounded  clear, 
Know  that  I  have  reached  the  Goal 
(Which  is  God  seen  thro  no  tear). 


ON   BALLYTEIGUE   BAY 

I've  heard  the  sea-dead  three  nights  come  keening 

And  crying  to  my  door. 
Why  will  they  affright  me  with  their  threening 

Forevermore ! 
O  have  they  no  grave  in  the  salt  sea-places 

To  lay  them  in? 

Do  they  know,  do  they  know — with  their  cold  dead 
faces ! — 

Know  .  .  .  my  sin? 


There's  blood  on  my  soul.    The  Lord  cannot  wipe  it 

Away  with  His  own  blood. 
I've  beaten  my  breast  with  blows  that  stripe  it, 

And  burned  His  Rood 

125 


i26  NIRVANA    DAYS 

With  kisses  that  shrivel  my  lips — that  shrivel 

To  sin  on  the  air. 
But  the  night  and  the  storm  cry  on  me  evil. 

Does  He  not  care? 


There's  blood  on  my  soul:  but  then  .  .  .  sHe  should 
never 

Have  said  it  was  his — the  child — 
And  hers — for  she  knew  I'd  never  forgive  her  .  .  . 

I  grew  so  wild 
There  was  just  one  thing  to  be  done — to  kill  her: 

Just  one — no  more. 

I  took  the  keen  steel  .  .  .  one  stroke  would   still 
her  ... 

I  counted  four. 


And  she  fell — fell  down  on  the  kelp — none  near  her. 

But  when  she  lay  so  fair 
I  kissed  her  .  .  .  because  I  knew  I  should  fear  her, 

And  smoothed  her  hair; 


NIRVANA    DAYS  127 

And  shut  her  two  eyes  that  fixed  me  fearless 

Of  death  and  pain. 
And  the  blood  on  my  hand  I  wiped  off  tearless — 

And  that  on  my  brain. 


And  I  buried  her  quickly.     The  thorn-trees  cover 

Her  grave  with  spines.    I  pray 
That  each  in  its  fall  will  prick  her  and  shove  her 

To  colder  clay. 

But  .  .  .  yonder !  .  .  .  she's  up !  and  moans  in  the 
heather 

A  whimpering  thing! 
I'll  bury  her  deeper  in  Autumn  weather  .  .  . 

Or  Winter  ...  or  Spring. 


And  then  if  she  comes  with  them  still  to  call  me 

Each  night,  I'll  tell  her  loud 
He  was  mine !  and  laugh  when  they  try  to  pall  me 

With  sea  and  shroud. 


128  NIRVANA    DAYS 

And  I'll  swear  not  to  care  for  Christ  or  Devil. 

They'll  skitter  back 

To   the   waves,    at   that,    and   be    gone   with    their 
revel.  .  .  . 

God  spare  me  the  rack! 


NIGHT-RIDERS  * 

See  them  mount  in  the  dead  of  night — 

Men,  three  hundred  strong! 
Armed  and  silent,  masked  from  the  light, 

Speeding  swartly  along. 
What  is  their  errand?  manly  fight? 

Clench  with  a  manly  foe? 
I  would  rather  be  dead  of  wrong 

Than  ride  among  them  so. 

See  them  enter  the  sleeping  town. 

Hear  the  warning  shot ! 
Keep  to  your  beds,  free  men — down,  down ! 

Dare  you  to  move  ? — dare  not ! 

1  This  clan  of  tobacco  outlaws  in  Kentucky  during  1907- 
1908  cast  such  disgrace  on  her  good  name  as  years  will  not  suffice 
to  erase. 

129 


130  NIRVANA    DAYS 

These  are  your  masters — these  who  crown 

Black  Anarchy  their  king — 
I  would  rather  my  hand  should  rot 

Than  have  it  do  this  thing. 


See  them  steal  to  the  house  they  seek — 

Brave  men,  O,  brave  all ! 
There  lies  a  sick  boy,  fever-weak; 

Who  comes  forth  at  call? 
A  woman  ?    "  Go  in,  you  bitch  !  "  they  reek. 

"  Give  us  the  old  man  out !  " 
Rather  my  bitten  tongue  should  fall 

To  palsy  than  so  shout. 

And — they  have  him,  "  the  old  man,"  now, 

Bound — with  nine  beside. 
One,  a  Judge  of  the  Law's  grave  brow, 

Sworn  by  it  to  bide. 
"  Lash  him  !  " — a  hundred  lashes  plow 

A  free-born  back  with  pain ! 


NIRVANA    DAYS  131 

God,  shall  we  let  such  cowards  ride 
And  burn  and  beat  and  stain? 


O  the  shame,  and  the  bitter  shame, 

That  thus,  across  our  land, 
Crime  can  arise  and  write  her  name 

Broad,  with  a  bloody  hand ! 

0  the  shame,  and  the  bitter  shame 
Upon  our  chivalry. 

1  would  rather  have  led  the  band 
That  diced  on  Calvary. 

So,  Night-errants,  ride  on  and  ride — 

Avenging,  wrongly,  wrong. 
But  when  the  children  at  your  side 

Grow  lawless  up  and  strong; 
When  at  their  drunken  hands  you've  died 

As  beasts  beside  your  door, 
You  will  repent,  God  knows  it — long, 

These  nights  to  Hell  made  o'er. 


HONOR 
(To  the  Night- Riders  Who  Murdered  Hedges) 

Honor  to  men 

Who  leave  their  homes 

And  children  safe  asleep, 
To  take  the  cover  of  night  and  fright 

Women  that  wake  and  weep ! 
Honor,  again, 
To  those  who  mount 

For  blood — hounds  in  a  pack ! 
But  let  us  honor  the  most  of  all — 

Men  that  shoot  in  the  back ! 

For,  it  is  good 
To  fare  a-field 

And  frighten  helpless  things, 
132 


NIRVANA    DAYS  133 

And  how  good  with  a  torch  to  scorch 

A  poor  man's  harvestings. 
But,  if  you  would 
Do  something  high 

And  blameless,  brave  not  black, 
Ride  till  you  find  a  peaceful  man — 

Then  shoot — shoot  in  the  back! 

Why,  there  was  one 
In  Palestine 

Who  gave  a  certain  kiss. 
More,  fine  friends,  do  you  give  who  live 

In  a  land  not  far  from  this ! 
For  what  he  had  done 
He  hanged  himself — 

Shame  made  a  sick  heart  crack. 
But  you  will  muster  and  ride  again — 

And  shoot — shoot  in  the  back ! 

Oh,  and  you  may ! 
But  wait,  the  Day 


134  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Will  come — shall  it  not  come? 
The   Sovereign   Law  that  you  flaunt  and 
daunt, 

Will  she  lie  always  dumb? 
Her  prisons  gray 
They  are  slow,  but  wide; 

When  they  open,  you  will  lack 
Many  a  thing — but  most  the  fair, 

Brave  chance  to  shoot  in  the  back ! 


O  that  a  man 

Should  write  such  words 

Of  any  soul  alive ! 
That  any  shameless  ear  should  hear — 

And  still  in  stealth  connive 
To  burn  and  to  ban, 
From  home  and  help, 

The  weak  who  fear  the  rack! 
That  he  could  wait  till  Justice  turns, 

Then  shoot — shoot  in  the  back! 


BRUDE1 
(A  Dramatic  Fantasy) 

Dealing  with : 

Boadicca,  queen  of  the  Britons. 
Lamora,  a  Gaulish  captive. 
Brude,  a  Druid. 
Cormo,  a  warrior. 
Corlun,  Druid  high-priest, 

and 
Horma,  a  wandering  hag* 

SCENE:  A  Hall  of  hewn  wood,  on  the  island  of 
Mona,  in  which  BOADICEA  sits  enthroned  and 
attended.  On  her  right,  warriors,  long-haired, 

'This  sketch,  written  in  1898,  was  in  no  sense  conceived  for 
the  stage. 

135 


136  NIRVANA    DAYS 

mustached  and  painted  with  wood.  On  the  left, 
a  band  of  Druids  robed  in  white:  among  them 
BRUDE,  whom  she  watches  jealously  from  time 
to  time.  On  the  floor  in  front  of  her  cringes 
LAMORA,  held  by  CORMO. 

Boadicea.     Britons,  hear ! 
Ye  know  how  my  lord, 
Caerleon's  liege, 
Swore  feal  to  the  Romans 
His  lorn  wife  and  daughters — 
When  the  wolf,  Death, 
Gnawed  life  from  his  heart. 
Ye  know  how  the  Roman, 
Ravenous  traitor, 
Slaves  us  with  thongs 
Of  brutal  behest. 
Will  ye  still  daunt 
Your  necks  to  the  noose? 

All.    No!  no!  Queen!  no,  no,  no? 

Boadicea.     Then,  warriors  of  iron, 


NIRVANA    DAYS  137 

Sworded  with  terror, 
Fly  to  your  henges ! 
Fight  till  ye  crowd 
Hell  with  the  ghosts 
Of  ethlings  that  Britons  hate. 

Warriors.    To    the     slaughter!      Hro !     to    the 
slaughter ! 

[They  rush  from  the  hall  in  haste. 

Boadicea  (continuing}.     And  ye,  Druid  seers, 
Heard  by  the  gods, 
Feared  by  the  fiends, 
Ye  must  away ! 
To  your  dark  fane, 
The  gaunt  oak-forest 
Holy  with  mistle ! 
White-robed  as  spirits, 
Gold  knives  uplifting, 
Sing  to  the  serpents, 
Seek  the  Charmed  Eggf 


138  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Druids  (boiving  with  weird  signs).    Great  is  the 

Queen. 

Her  Druids  hear. 
But  shall  no  gift  be  made? 

Boadicea.     Yea  .  .  .  since  Lactantius, 
God  more  than  all  gods, 
Will  not  be  soothed 
By  sheep  or  cattle, 
On  your  high  altar 
Slay  ye  this  maiden  of  Gaul ! 

[Points  to  LAMORA,  who  cries  out  to  her, 
then   to   BRUDE: 

Lamora.     Nay,  Queen,  O  pity  ! 
O,  Brude,  win  pity ! 
Let  her  not  yield  me 
Prey  to  the  gods. 
Rather  in  battle 
'Gainst  the  hard  Roman 
\Yould  I  be  trampled 
Into  the  grave. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  i39 

Trampled  by  war-hoofs  .  .  . 
Into  a  grave  of  blood ! 

Boadicca.     Proud-lip  !  mocker  ! 
Dare  you  sputter 
Shame  on  the  awful  gods? 

[Strikes    her    down  .  .  .  BRUDE    watches 
helpless. 

Corlun  (coming  forward}.     Kneel,  Druids,  kneel ! 
Then  bear  her  away ! 
Meet  me  at  midnight, 
Druids'  day, 
Deep  within  Mona's  wood. 

[They  kneel,  then  go,  bearing  LAMORA. 

SCENE  II:  Sunset.  A  rocky  cave  near  the  forest. 
BRUDE  pacing  back  and  forth  with  restless  mut 
tering. 

Brude.     O  thou  Lactantius, 
Whom  other  gods 


i4o  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Worship  with  trembling, 

While  their  star-chariots 

Roll  to  the  sea  ! 

Symbolled  by  circles, 

Endless  in  being, 

Dost  thou  love  life-blood 

As  Druids  say? 

When  the  white  maiden's 

Pierced  on  the  altar 

Dost  thou  drink  praises 

From  her  wide  wound? 

So  teach  the  seers, 

So  did  I,  Brude,  swear — 

Till  I  saw  Lamora ! 

Her  eyes  are  love-fires, 

Her  words  are  sorcery 

Stronger  than  god-laws ! 

But  .  .  .  who  comes  hither? 

[Has  heard  a  moan. 
Hither  harasser 
Of  these  my  thoughts? 


NIRVANA    DAYS  141 

Ha !  is  it  Lamora 
Followed  by  Cormo? 
Curses  like  vampires 
Fall  on  his  head  ! 

[Steps  aside. 

Lamora    (entering   in   despair}.    Mother!    sweet 

mother, 

Far  in  the  Eastland, 
Soon  must  thy  daughter 
Pass  from  earth's  day ! 
Ne'er  shall  a  boy-babe 
Suck  from  her  bosom 
Valor  to  strangle 
Wolves  in  the  lair ! 
Never  shall  husband 
From  the  red  war-fields 
Bring  her  the  foeman's  spoils ! 

Cormo  (behind  her).    Lamora,  proud  one — 

Lamora.    Leave  me,  viper! 
Stand  from  me  farther ! 


i42  NIRVANA   DAYS 

Will  you  e'en  now 
With  tongue  spit  poison 
On  my  last  ebbing  hour? 

Cormo.     Nay,  maiden,  cruel, 
But  I  will  aid  thee. 
Words  are  as  smoke, 
Deeds  as  flame  ! 
Hear !  I  will  save  thee 
From  Druid  talons 
And  bear  thee  whither  thou  wilt: 
Give  but  thy  vow  to  wed  me ! 

Lamora.    Wed  thee? — thee?  .  .  . 
Never — while  cliffs 
O'er  the  plain  jutting 
Plight  void  death  to  the  leaper ! 
Never  while  waves 
Curl  gray  lips 
Yearning  to  gulf  the  doomed ! 

Cormo.     Then  thou  shalt  die  !  shalt  die  ! 
Druids  shall  gash 


NIRVANA    DAYS  143 

Streamings  of  life 

Out  of  thy  shrinking  sides ! 

Lamora.     Then  die  I  will !  .  ,  , 
But  not  thro  fear, 
Coward  of  Britons, 
Will  I  e'er  mother 
Child  of  thy  loins. 
Rather  let  flames, 
Tongues  of  the  gods, 
Suck  the  red  life  from  my  breast. 
Yea,  let  the  gods, 
Glutless  as  men, 
And,  as  women, 
Treacherous,  vain — 
Strike,  at  the  call  of  thy  Queen! 

[Goes,  followed  by  CORMO. 

Brude   (.coming  forward}.     No!  thou  shalt  live, 
live,  live  ! 

[Goes  into  cave,  then  comes  forth  with  a 
knife. 


144  NIRVANA    DAYS 

SCENE  III:  Midnight.  A  stormy  glade  in  the  for 
est.  On  one  side  a  cromlech  whereon  LAMORA 
lies  bound:  CORLUN  beside  her  with  an  uplifted 
blade  of  gold.  On  the  other  side  Druids — 
around  a  pot  of  serpents  over  a  fire  in  the  cav 
ern  of  an  uprooted  tree. 

[BRUDE  is  among  them,  watchful. 

Corlun  (chanting}.     Orpo  ! — Ai ! — 
Now  shall  the  Roman 
Backward  be  driven, 

O  gods ! 
Orpo !— Ai  !— 
For  to  the  death  stroke 
Lamora's  given, 

O  gods! 
Orpo !  Ai  !— 
Her  skyward  soul 
Thro  the  dank  dark  shall  rise, 
As  the  morn's  sun 


NIRVANA   DAYS  145 

Unto  your  halls 

Far  o'er  the  skies. 

And  she  shall  say 

Thus  Druids  crave 

Help  of  the  helpers  of  men. 

Druids  (incanting  around  the  cavern}.    Orpo! — 

Ail- 
Serpents  are  spawned 
Of  devils'  spit, 

O  gods ! 
Orpo !— Ai  I— 
Spit  boiled  with  blood 
In  caverns  lit 
By  fungous  fangs 
From  Mona's  wood. 

[They  circle.    BRUDE  steals  behind  CORLUN. 

Orpo !— Ai  !— 
Serpents  arej^spawned 
In  magic  broth' 
To  coil  and  wriggle, 


i46  NIRVANA    DAYS 

Writhe  and  twist; 

Till  their  froth 

Becomes  a  mist, 

Till  the  mist 

An  egg  shall  form — 

Charm  that  Druids  prize. 

Brude  (with  a  sudden  cry).     Corlun,  the  gods 
Wait  for  thy  soul ! 

[Slays  him. 

Lamora,  fly !  . 

With  me,  fly — 
Thro  the  black  forest! 

[Has  cut  her  bonds. 
Great  Lactantius, 
Maker  of  gods, 
Loves  not  the  maiden's  death-cry ! 

\Thcy  escape. 

Druids   (in  terror}.     Corlun  is  slain! 
Corlun !  slain  ! 
Woe  to  the  Druids ! 


NIRVANA    DAYS  147 

Woe  from  the  heavens ! 
Woe  from  the  ireful  Queen ! 

[They  pursue  confusedly, 

SCENE  IV:  Dawn;  far  in  the  forest.  Enter  BRUDE 
and  LAMORA  faintingly  to  a  spot  where  HORMA, 
the  hag,  unseen  by  them  is  gathering  herbs. 

Lamora.     Strength  no  more 
Wings  me  for  flight. 
With  hunger  of  sleep  I  faint. 


\Fatts. 


Brude  (sinking  by  her}.     Yet  ere  thy  sleep, 
Maid  like  the  dawn, 
List  to  my  heart's  wild  uttering ! 
All  I  have  dared 
Was  for  thy  love — 
Tho  but  to  love  thee 
Would  I  dare  all ! 

Lamora.     Ah !     What   is  love, 
Brude  wise  and  noble? 


i4»  NIRVANA   DAYS 

Is  it  this  burning 

Far  in  my  breast 

Melting  my  soul  to  thine? 

Is  it  this  power 

Hid  in  my  eyes 

Shaping  thy  face 

On  hill  and  cloud? 

Is  it  this  whisper, 

As  of  sea-waves, 

Singing  thy  name  to  me  ? 

Yea !     So  now  we  may  sleep. 

[They  lie  down.  HORMA,  the  hag,  who  has 
heard  them,  creeps  maundering  up  and 
gazes  at  them. 

Horma.    Owl  and  eaglet? 
Have  they  fled? 
Then  let  witch-toads  sing! 
Oaths  forgotten, 
Would  they  wed? 
Then  let  bull-bats, 


NIRVANA    DAYS  149 

Wild  a-wing, 

Flap  the  moon  from  heaven ! 

Deep  in  the  forest — 

Ha !  ho  !  ho ! 

[Breaks  off,  hearing  shouts.    Continues. 

They'll  be  slain ! 

{Fleeing. 

They'll  be  slain ! 

Brude  (waking).  What  was  my  dream?  .  .  . 

{Hears  the  shouts. 
Lamora !    Lamora ! 

[They   start   up   and   look   at   each   other. 
Silence. 

Lamora  (at  length).    So  was  it  doomed. 
Now  we  must  cross 
Thro  the  death-fog 
Unto  the  blest. 


i5o  NIRVANA    DAYS 

But  side  by  side, 

And  ere  they  come. 

[Hands  him  her  knife. 

Here  we  shall  die. 
But  in  the  Meadows 
Where  the  thin  shades 
Wander  and  wander, 
Ever  in  love  we'll  live  ! 

Fold  first  thy  arms  around  me. 

[They  embrace. 

Brude    (starting   from   her}.     Hear!    they   have 

come — 
Cormo  !    The  Queen  !  .  .  . 

Lamora.     Then  strike  !   for  thy  face 
Alone  would  I  see  in  death  ! 

Brude    (killing  her  then   himself}.   Cormo!  .  .  . 

Queen !  .  .  .  Death  ! 
Ye  shall  never  .  .  .  tear  us  apart! 

[Falls  with  her  in  his  arms,  as  BOADICEA 

and  warriors  enter. 


NIRVANA    DAYS  J5I 

Boadicea      (seeing     them).       Dead!  .  .  .  Leave 

them,  food 
For  beast  and  bird  ! 
Leave  them  !  away  !  away  ! 

[All  go  with  pride  and  spurning. 


THE    END 


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nice, 


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